The Mix Tape
by Skinny Love in Baltimore
Summary: Drabble-ish one-shot collection. Chapters are based off of songs, BUT UNDERSTAND THAT THEY ARE NOT SONG FICS. Read and Review!
1. There Is a Light That Never Goes Out

**I miss Seddie. It's been so long since I've written about this couple! But I'm back, yes indeed, with a brand SPANKING new (kind of) drabble fic. My favorite kind. Drabble fics have no boundaries. You don't have to worry about making sure every chapter will lead into the other and vice versa. You can be as vague as you need to be, let the reader make up their own backstory and just give them food for thought. That's what I love about them~**

**Anywho...**

**I LOVE THE SMITHS!**

**Anywho, again...**

**And, as the wise Abe Lincoln once said, "Read and Review, please." (I'm sure he said something along the lines of that at one point in his life...)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that I'm not supposed to and by writing this piece of fiction I am not saying or suggesting/implying that I do own said things. Blah blah.**

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**[THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT by The Smiths]**

_**Take me out tonight.**_

_**Because I want to see people and I want to see life.**_

_It was late, past midnight. She sat huddled in the corner of her room, phone cradled against her shoulder. She was crying. Not in a "poor me" kind of way, but in a "I fucking give up, are you happy God?" kind of way. _

"_I can't do it anymore, Freddie. It's all too much. It's all too fucking much. I need to leave. This city is so fucked up. I need to get out of here." _

_To this day, she doesn't understand why she can't stop herself from calling him whenever she feels like this._

_She heard him sigh tiredly as he quietly muttered something about how she couldn't lose it every time things got hard for her, throwing in the fact that other people had shit to deal with too, but they didn't break down every time they got a little overwhelmed._

_She gives him very explicit instructions on what he can go do to himself._

_About an hour later, he stands on her doorstep, clothes soaked through, hair wet and sticking to his face, his car on the street behind him. She wonders why he's here, but she already knows the answer. He hates being mad at her almost as much as she hates being mad at him._

_He jingles his car keys at her, giving her a look that says "Let's just get the fuck out of here. What do you say?"_

_Her whole being answers"YES."_

_**Driving in your car**_

_**I never never want to go home**_

_**Because I haven't got one**_

_**Anymore**_

They'd been driving for hours. She didn't even know where they were, where they were going, or where they had been. She knew this was crazy. But they were both kind of out of their minds, and she loved when they were crazy together.

She loved being with him. It took her awhile to admit that, even to herself. _I love being around Freddie. I love the way he makes me feel. I want to feel that way always. Forever. _Just openly thinking about it, sometimes it still made her cringe.

She glanced over at him, admiring the focused look that he always wore when he was driving. His left knee bounced up and down as he tapped his foot, matching the rhythm of whatever song was playing. He was leaned back in his seat. Body relaxed, mind alert.

He must have felt her eyes on him. His car rolled to a stop at a red light, and he turned his head towards her. She looked into his eyes, wanting to get lost in them, to swim in them forever. She didn't want to tear away from those eyes, to have to face reality and be forced to deal with less enjoyable things. She only wanted to see those eyes, _his _eyes.

She leaned over the seemingly endless space between them, grabbing his face and kissing him like she'll never be able to kiss him again. He doesn't even hesitate as he places his hands on her arms, pulling her closer, and she loves how he never questions her on these kinds of things. She breathes in and out through her nose, mostly because she needs the air, but also because she loves the way he smells. If it were even a little bit logical, she would try to spend eternity just like this, connected to him, wrapped up in his presence. When it's like this, she forgets all the bad, and nearly drowns in the good.

She somehow finds the strength to pull away from him. His eyes are slightly glazed over, cheeks flushed, and she has to bite her lip to hold back a laugh. She's always been a little too satisfied with his reactions to her.

Her smile drops quickly as all the _bad_ rushes back to her. He sees the change, notices the darkening of her eyes. His eyebrows pull together in a worried expression. His hand makes its way up to her face, tucking a strand of hair out of her beautifully troubled face.

His words come out almost incomprehensible, muffled from all this thinking she's been doing. "Sam? What is it?"

Her whole world seems to zero in on those three words. They are simple and vague and could be applied to a number of situations. But her sometimes psychotic brain hears so many other things, so many important things. _What is it? Is something wrong? Sam, you don't have to hold these things in anymore, remember? I'm here for you. I'm ready for my ears to fall off from listening to you vent about anything and everything. I'm ready to hear what you have to say. I'm here to be here._

And there were so many things she could have said. So many things that she wanted to say.

She could have thanked him for being there through the good things, the bad things, through _everything_.

She could have thanked him for always leaving his window open and giving her a place to go when sitting alone in a dark, cold house was just _too much_ and _not enough _at the same time, and she needed warmth and belonging and strong arms to hold her and bring her back to Earth. She could have mentioned how right it felt when he told her everything would be okay, and how much she believed it, even when it most likely wasn't true.

She could have reminded him that it meant so much to her that he never gave up on her, even when everyone else did. She could have told him that she loved him and that honestly, she doesn't ever want to be without him in reachable distance.

She could have told him all of these things.

She _should _have told him all of these things.

_**Take me out tonight.**_

_**Take me anywhere, I don't care**_

_**I don't care, I don't care.**_

_**And in the darkened underpass**_

_**I thought "Oh God, my chance has come at last,"**_

_**But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask**_

But she's afraid. Because frankly, these feelings scare her. So much. _What if they scare him too_? She thinks. _What if they scare him enough to make him run away and never come back? _

She 's almost certain she wouldn't be able to handle that.

So she keeps quiet. She's waited too long, the moment is dead anyway. Gone and forgotten. She leans in and captures his lips in one more kiss. This one is less desperate, because she's convinced herself for the time being that he'll always be right here, by her side. When they pull away, she offers him a small smile, assuring him in a hoarse mumble that nothing is wrong and that she's fine. He doesn't look very convinced. That's one of the downsides to this thing (whatever it is) that they've started between them. He's become so good at reading her, sometimes it seems pointless to even try to keep anything from him.

She retracts back to her own seat, knowing deep down that she'll spend so many nights, wide awake, playing this moment over and over again in her head, exhausting every possible scenario and every reasonable outcome.

She hears him sigh heavily, sounding a little disappointed, almost like he read her mind, like he heard all of those thoughts buzzing around inside her head, and he was just waiting to hear her say them out loud. _What a let down this must be for him._

He returns to his usual driving position; leaned back, serious face, tense hands, left foot tapping to the beat, knee bouncing up and down. She's grateful that moments like these never make things weird between them, because, unfortunately, they happen quite often.

They both settle back into that familiar and comfortable silence that they've grown together. And it feels so right she almost wants to throw up.

_Maybe one day, I'll be able to say those things to him. Maybe._

_**And if a double-decker bus**_

_**Crashes into us,**_

_**To die by your side**_

_**Is such a heavenly way to die.**_

_**And if a ten-ton truck**_

_**Kills the both of us,**_

_**To die by your side,**_

_**Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine.**_

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**Let me tell you about a little phenomenon. It's one of the reasons why I love writing. It's that feeling you get when you just start writing things, and it just keeps falling out of your brain and onto the paper or computer screen. And you didn't even know you had this much pent up in you. And you really have no plans of stopping soon. But then, it hits you. You look and you realize that what you just wrote ends the whole story perfectly. It finishes it up so well, like the red ribbon on a carefully wrapped present. That's totally what just happened to me. I just hammered out about a thousand words, and I honestly went into this with plans for only a hundred words. But I just kept writing and thinking and writing. I love it! And when I finally hit the ending, I was like, Wow. That's perfect. It gives me chills.**

**^TL;DR? **

**Yeah, I thought so.**

**Enough of my insane rambling!**

**Well, you read, yes? **

**(I'm assuming you did. I doubt that you just scrolled to the end and started reading this. But if that floats your boat, whatever.) **

**ANYWAY, assuming that you have read, now all you have to do is review. Reviews are always a positive thing! If you like what I'm doing, let me know and I'll keep doing it. If you absolutely hate what I'm doing, let me know, and I'll crawl under a rock and stop filling up the iCarly Archive with crap that nobody wants to read!**

**I'm hoping to continue with this. I have a lot of little Seddie tidbits lying around that I would love to publish. Some of them are heavy, like this one, and some are lighter. Just tell me what you guys want! I write for you. Your opinion feeds my inspiration. (:**

**READ AND REVIEW, but no flaming, please. I'm small and my heart is fragile.**


	2. After the Storm

**This is one of those super short ones. I have fed you. Now, enjoy. May it nourish your imaginations and allow them to grow.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything I'm not supposed to own.**

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**[AFTER THE STORM by Mumford and Sons]**

Samantha Puckett sighed contentedly as she lay on her stomach, her mismatching sock covered toes wriggling comfortably. She folded her arms under her head, staring out of Freddie's bedroom window from his bed. The window was opened slightly, so she could hear the steady patter of the rain and the faint sounds of the city below them.

Freddie lay next to her, leaning up against his headboard, his fingers idly tracing pictures on Sam's arm. "I've been thinking about something…" Freddie said quietly, not really wanting to disturb the comfortable silence.

"Hmm?" She grunted, turning her head to face him.

"… I think I'm in love with you."

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**Read and Review, please and many thanks.**


	3. I Think I'll Go Inside

**I wanted to thank all of my reviewers. Those that are fellow writers can understand how much it means to hear that people are actually reading your work and taking the time to voice their opinion about it. It makes me feel so good inside, so again, thank you!**

**And by the way, if it's at all possible, I recommend listening to whatever song the chapter is based off of while you're reading. It sounds stupid, but it really drives the point home, completes the experience.**

******Disclaimer: I don't own anything that I am not supposed to own.**

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**[I THINK I'LL GO INSIDE by Joshua Radin]**

The very first time Sam climbed in through my bedroom window, Seattle was in the midst of a three day (and counting) downpour. Even for Rain City, it was pretty excessive.

It was around midnight when she came knocking on the glass. I was awake, as I had been for the past few hours. It was one of those nights when I couldn't get my mind to shut up long enough for me to fall asleep.

I walked over to the window to see who the intruder was. Thinking back, I probably already knew, deep down, that it was Sam. I still don't know of anybody else who would—let alone could—climb eight floors up a fire escape.

Sliding open the glass, I leaned out the window, not bothering with any sort of greeting. There are some situations that just don't call for a witty ice breaker. When she saw me she quickly looked down at her shoes, bunching up the end of her sleeves in her hands. She muttered a casual "Hey," as if showing up on my fire escape in the middle of the night was an everyday occurrence.

I probably looked as confused as I felt. "Hey," I said back, almost questioningly. "What are you doing here?"

She lifts her head, still not meeting my eyes. "Is your mom home?" She said, ignoring my question.

"No, she's working the night shift," I answer. "Sam, how did you get up here?"

She looked back to the railing of the fire escape before turning back to me, making eye contact for the first time that night. "I… climbed?" She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I contemplated questioning her further, but decided against it, knowing that it wouldn't get me any more of an explanation.

I pause for a moment after I noticed her worn appearance. She was completely drenched. Her clothes were soaked through and her hair stuck to her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, but I told myself that it was just from the rain. She looked tired, totally drained.

Her skin was covered in goose bumps from the cold. "It's raining." I say, awkwardly pointing out the obvious. I could tell she had a snippy and sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue (probably something along the lines of; "Well look at that, ladies and gentlemen. Freddie understands the weather."), but she bites it back and nods instead, smiling tightly. I smirked, somewhat impressed by her ability to hide the seemingly impulsive behavior that she normally flaunts.

"Do you want to come in?"

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Half an hour later, Sam was lying next to me, now wearing one of my sweaters and a pair of shorts. She was picking at the ends of her hair, one of her nervous habits.

I cleared my throat to get her attention. "Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

She paused for a long moment, chewing the inside of her cheek, before answering, "No. I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't bother trying to get her to discuss it.

**Helpful Tips for Dating Blonde Demons (HTFDBD) #17: Give up arguing. You'll never win.**

I stared at the ceiling as the silence settled over us again.

"I hate being alone." She said, suddenly but also quietly. I tried to look at her, but her eyes were down, avoiding my gaze.

"What?"

"I hate being alone in that house. It's so… _dark_ and cold. And it's so quiet, I can't stand it. I just… I had to go somewhere where I wouldn't have to be alone.

My heart swelled up, in a very manly and _totally_ not sappy way. Right then, I was laying in my bed, and nestled next to me was Real Sam, not just Everyday Sam. Not many people have the right to see Real Sam, or talk to her or learn stuff about her. Sam hardly ever opened up, so whenever she did, it was unforgettable.

Real Sam lifted her head off of the bed to look up at me. I couldn't see any hint of emotion in her face, but her eyes scanned my face, watching for my reaction to her words.

I managed to keep my face blank while she scrutinized me, even though my inner-Freddie was jumping and giggling like a giddy school girl. After a few seconds, she reached her hand up and flicked my nose, hard. I didn't even know flicks could hurt that badly.

_Well, moment's over. Welcome back, Everyday Sam._

Wearing a smug smile, she leaned forward and gave me a small peck on the lips, before turning her back to me and settling back down on the bed. "Goodnight Freduccini." And just like that, she fell silent.

But I had something I had to get out, preferably before she slipped into one of her dead-asleep slumbers. Sam morphs into a frightening, merciless creature when she is woken up too suddenly. "Hey, uh... Sam?" I said in a quiet, almost cowardly whisper.

"Hmm?" she grunted, not bothering to turn around to look at me.

"I just want you know that my door— and my windows, I guess—are always open for you. Whenever you need it. Just knock."

I didn't know what she was thinking. I'll never really know. That was one of the frustrating things about her. Even if I learned every single dark, secret thing about Sam, I will never completely understand what is going on inside that unspoken blonde head of hers. It was torture.

After too many long moments of silence, she exhaled loudly, before turning back around and curling herself up to my frame, still not making eye contact. "You're such a dork." She said with just a hint of a smile on her voice.

I couldn't fight the grin that crept onto my face. _Yep, this is definitely Everyday Sam._

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**Note: If you have any requests/songs that you want me to do, let me know in the reviews.**

**Well, leave me a review. Let me know wh****at I'm doing right, and please point out what I'm doing wrong ! ****(please do it in a nice way, though. no flaming) I do this to better myself, and I do want to know what my flaws are.**

**P.S. I just love Joshua Radin. Any fellow fans out there?**


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